He detoured to the woodpile for an ax, then headed into the stand of pine trees on the ridge behind the house. He’d planted most of them up there himself, full-grown pines that had cost a fortune. He supposed he’d done it just because his parents had no similar trees, despite the name of their home. The gesture had been some sort of perverse link to his past.
He surveyed the cluster of trees critically, dismissing several as too scrawny, a few more as misshapen, though they’d all seemed perfect to him when he’d chosen them from the nursery. Finally his gaze landed on a tree that was tall and full and fragrant.
He worked up a sweat and an appetite chopping it down, then dragging it through the snow all the way back to the house. Propped up against the back porch railing, the tree seemed ever-so-slightly larger than it had on the ridge. He eyed it uneasily and decided he might have been just a little optimistic about fitting it into the house. Still, there was no denying that it was impressive. It made a statement, one he hoped that Jessie couldn’t mistake.
After stomping the snow off his boots and dusting it from his clothes, he snuck inside to make sure that Jessie was still in bed. During the night as he’d been sitting awake in the living room staring into the fire, he’d heard her pacing the floor with the baby. Hopefully, she was catching up on lost sleep this morning.
He tiptoed down the hall as silently as a man his size could manage, then edged the bedroom door open a crack. Down for the count, he decided, after watching the soft rise and fall of her chest for several seconds more than was entirely necessary.
Angela, however, was another story. In her makeshift bed, a drawer they had lined with blankets, she was cooing to herself and waving her arms as if to let him know she was ready for an adventure. Luke couldn’t resist the invitation. There was something about holding that tiny bundle of brand new life in his arms that filled him with a sense of hope.
Swearing to himself that he was only picking the baby up to keep her from waking Jessie, he carried her, bed and all, into the kitchen. Those serious eyes of hers remained fixed on him trustingly all the way down the hall. He was certain they were filled with anticipation, indicating she was ready to try anything. He figured she was destined to break a good many hearts with what seemed to him her already-evident daredevil nature.
“Now, then, sweet pea, can you be very quiet while I bring the tree in? Just wait till you see it. It’s your very first Christmas tree and, if I do say so myself, it’s just about the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”
Angela seemed willing to be temporarily abandoned. Luke was on the porch and back in a flash, lugging the tree through the kitchen and into the living room. He found the perfect spot for it in the nook formed by a huge bay window. As soon as he’d put it down, he went back into the kitchen for the baby. This time he plucked her out of her bed and carried her in his arms, admiring the simple red plaid sleeper Jessie had apparently stitched up from another one of his old shirts.
“So, what do you think?” he asked as he stood before the tree, admiring the sweep of its branches against the ten-foot-high ceiling. Placing it in a stand, assuming he even had one that would fit its thick trunk, definitely would require a little trimming at the top.
Angela seemed fascinated. He echoed her approval. “Pretty awesome, huh? Wait till you see it with lights and decorations. You won’t be able to take your eyes off it.”
The only problem was the lights, the decorations and the tree stand were all stored upstairs. He had a hunch she wouldn’t tolerate being put back in that drawer again. “Now that is a quandary,” he said to Angela. “But we can solve it, can’t we? I’ll just settle you right here on the floor so you can see, put some pillows around you in case you happen to be precocious enough to roll over. I think that’s a little advanced even for someone of your brilliance, but there’s no point in taking chances.”
Angela’s face scrunched up the instant he deposited her among the pillows. He propped her up so she had a better view of the tree, an arrangement which seemed to improve her disposition. “Now don’t let me down, angel,” he cajoled. “No crying, okay? I promise I’ll be back before you can say Santa Claus.”
He darted worried glances over his shoulder all the way out of the room. The baby seemed to have settled into her nest without a fuss. He doubted her contentment would last, though.
Thankfully, Consuela was the most organized human being he’d ever met. The Christmas decorations were tidily stacked and labeled in a storage closet, where he’d insisted they remain this year. She’d succeeded in sneaking a fat, pine-scented candle and a table decoration into the dining room, but that was all she’d dared after his firm instructions.
Luke managed to get all the boxes into his arms at once, then juggled them awkwardly as he made his way back downstairs. The boxes began to wobble dangerously halfway down. The top one tumbled off, then the one after that. There was no mistaking the tinkling sound of glass breaking. Mixed with his muttered oaths and Angela’s first faint whimpers, it was apparently more than enough to wake Jessie.
He’d just turned the corner to the living room when she came staggering out of